Chapter 47: No Schemes For The Chief

How the day would end was still very much up for debate, especially given how insistent the chief seemed about clinging to whatever scraps of power he had left. Kren didn’t particularly care. In their society, making a public decree and then backing out of it was one of the quickest ways to earn yourself an early grave. Still, looking at the man — frail, visibly ill, closer to death than most people twice his age — Kren found it hard to fully blame him for scrambling to hold on.

Which was exactly the mindset he carried as he descended from the chief’s house and stepped out into the square beyond it. The old man’s enthusiastic smile was more unsettling than reassuring, but whatever game he was playing, Kren would let it run its course — so long as the end result put him on the road back to by first light, weapons and resources in hand, everything his people desperately needed to survive. The Storm Eagles couldn’t offer much on paper. What they could offer, though, would make a genuine difference.

"My people, behold! Our savior!" The chief’s voice rang out across the plaza as he guided Kren forward, raising one trembling hand skyward. The entire square erupted into cheers. Kren’s party watched from behind as the old man fought to stay upright through sheer will alone, his voice carrying far more strength than his frail body suggested it should.

"Tonight, he grants me the bond, cementing the alliance between the N’korans and the Storm Eagles. And soon, once fully healed, he will take his rightful place as our leader — husband to my beloved daughter, Pina."

The cheers rose again, though both Pina and Fima wore matching expressions of barely concealed disgust off to the side. Kren only raised an eyebrow at the sheer audacity on display. Did the old man genuinely believe this stunt would work? That a public spectacle alone could box him into whatever corner the chief wanted him steered toward? Kren opened his mouth to respond, only for the chief to pull him suddenly into an embrace, drawing another round of cheers from the gathered crowd.

"These are my people, N’kora." the chief murmured, low enough that only Kren could hear it clearly. "If you want to lead them — if you want their loyalty, and if you truly want access to the weapons cache my ancestors buried deep in these mountains — you need me. I’m the only one alive who knows where it rests. Grant me the bond, let our two peoples stand joined in alliance, and I will give you everything you came here for. And so much more."

The chief made to pull back, but Kren held firm to the fabric of his robes. Frail as he was, the old man simply didn’t have the strength to break free. Shock flickered plainly across his face — as if the possibility of Kren reacting publicly to his scheming had never once crossed his mind. Unfortunately for him, there was no version of this where Kren bent to accommodate him. In this world, power was the only real currency worth bargaining with, and the chief held none left to spend.

"I don’t have time for your games, old man. I don’t know your name, and frankly, I don’t care to learn it. That’s exactly how inconsequential you are to me, and to everything I’m building." Kren paused deliberately, making certain the chief was listening — and more importantly, that every single person gathered in that square heard it too.

The cleanest way to dismantle a political scheme was usually to blow it wide open in public. For all the Storm Eagles had to offer, they remained far too weak to hold any real negotiating position here. A leader had made his public decree, and Kren had delivered on it — walking back on that now would be unthinkable for him. So the chief had tried twisting the outcome instead, angling for a version where he still kept most, if not all, of his grip on the tribe. Kren wasn’t about to let that stand.

"You’ve got one foot in the grave already, old man, and I care nothing for your opinion on this — not when you were willing to lure cultivators to their deaths, feeding them to that Lyndwyrm on the off chance you might scavenge a crest for yourself and start cultivating again. I have far too much riding on this to waste time playing your games. So I’ll say this once, and I’m addressing it to every Storm Eagle standing in this square, not just you."

Kren’s voice rose again, and this time, no cheers followed. He refused to play along with whatever narrative the chief had been building, making his disdain for the man plain for everyone present to see. The sudden whiplash in tone left the crowd visibly unsettled. Somewhere behind him, Aki let out a quiet sigh at the complete absence of subtlety, but Kren ignored it entirely, releasing the chief and watching, impassive, as the old man stumbled backward into Pina and Jomin’s waiting arms. Pina shot him a sharp glare over the rough handling of her father. Kren ignored that too.

"War is coming. In fact, even as I stand here speaking to you, war already sits at my gates — so I’ll get straight to the point. The Storm Eagles are weak. On an actual battlefield, the influence any one of you could bring against the enemies arrayed against me is minuscule. Negligible, if we’re being honest with each other.

"But legend speaks of something else entirely — your people’s gift for building and inventing weapons capable of wounding cultivators far beyond your own grade. Homes and structures built to outlast generations. Innovations my people, all our people, desperately need if we’re going to survive what’s coming. That talent — your ability to build a future the Zar Draconic Empire cannot simply burn to the ground — is exactly why I’m standing here tonight."

The entire square fell silent, Kren’s words settling over the crowd like a physical weight. He was impossible to look away from, and whatever strange pressure radiated off him in that moment, the crowd couldn’t quite name it, only feel it — something that demanded fealty and respect without a single word asking for either outright. A king’s presence, settling naturally into place.

"I am here to use every one of you. To put your hands and minds to work, building not just a kingdom, but an empire capable of answering every wrong done to our people. So I promise you plainly — the road ahead will not be easy. Not for me. And certainly not for you." He paused, turning his attention toward Pina and Jomin.

"I will take your princess as my wife. Your prince will serve in my court as an advisor. Both of them will represent your people’s interests at my side. But more than that — all of you become my people, starting tonight.

"I don’t know what promises your chief has made you. I don’t know what future your princess has been quietly steering you toward, or what schemes your neighbors scattered across these mountains are chasing. What I can offer you is simple, and I mean every word of it. Food. Shelter. A shield strong enough to stand between you and everything that’s ever tried to hurt you. A real chance for your children to grow up in a world where you’re not simply wasting away on a mountain full of resources you can never properly use.

"The Storm Eagles have never been warriors — there’s no use pretending otherwise. But legend says you could craft the very sky itself, if you only chose to. That is your true calling. The birthright your ancestors carried, the one stolen from every generation since. So tonight, I become your king, and you become my people. And tomorrow — tomorrow, we start writing new legends. Because the darkness is coming for all of us, whether we’re ready or not. So we had better be ready. For all of our futures sake."